Remembrance
by Furor Scribiendi
Summary: Someone pays a visit to an old enemycumally and a relative. WARNINGS: Not a happy fic. If you don’t like character deaths, don’t read this one has two.


**_Remembrance  
_**

* * *

The promontory jutted out sharply, creating an illusory floating island. A cold wind eddied around his feet, swirling his cloak around him. From below, he could just hear the dull roar of the sea as it crashed on the rocks. The grass was brown and dead, buried beneath a thick layer of brilliant white snow. The only things that stood out here were the twin grave markers. They were unmarked and could have melded with the sky. They were precisely the same colour and no one expected to find grave markers in a place like this. But he knew who lay in the respective sides. One was added much later than the other was.

But then again, they had a definite knack for doing the totally unexpected.

This was where the culmination of the Dark Lord's long war had taken place. This desolate, barren piece of land was where the Dark Lord was finally killed.

That was mainly thanks to the Order. He had the distinct privilege of being part of that group. It hadn't been his idea to join at first. It had been, of all people, his father that had pushed him to join. He had suspected because it was that his father was secretly part of that group, while professing to be part of the Dark Lord's Inner Circle.

The truth of the matter was that the double crossing didn't come until a bit later.

There were a few months after he himself had joined and then, the Malfoy patriarch came into the brew.

As if that hadn't been shocking enough, was the fact that the figurehead for the Order had immediately taken to the elder Malfoy. Dumbledore seemed slightly bemused when it happened, but encouraged it wholeheartedly. Everyone else, himself included, was nothing short of shocked. The secondary reactions ranged from bemusement to outright rage. His own had been outright rage.

But he didn't dare interfere and he could only watch, as the two became closer and closer. Of course, he should have realised that the physical aspect would quickly follow. It was always like that in those types of situations, when you didn't know when your last day alive would be. Hell, it happened when he spent more time with someone he had his eye on.

Maybe the physical had strengthened the emotional bonds that had formed. All he knew was when that final battle came, they were both in the thick of it. And they had been the ones to attempt to stop the Dark Lord when he Apparated away from the field of battle.

What the Dark Lord had inadvertently done was take two very powerful and angry wizards with him. And he had to face them alone.

No one knew what happened. But when they finally found them, it was nothing short of heartbreaking.

The feared Malfoy patriarch was cradling the dead Saviour, tears streaming from his eyes but not a single sound coming from his lips; it was as if he didn't dare voice his anguish for fear of losing complete control.

The only way to separate them was to Stun the weeping wizard and then bear away the bodies; one for a funeral, one for convalescing.

And so the Saviour was buried here first. After a massive period of public mourning, everyone went back on with their lives.

All except one. One didn't quite convalesce, didn't fully recover; he didn't move on, couldn't.

Everyone was overly gentle around the elder Malfoy. They suggested counselling, something to assist in getting over the pain. All that was ever said in response was, "I'm not broken; I want to feel this way so I can always remember my dearly departed."

He could still remember his father's whispered words of, "I am all that remains of the one good thing in his life."

However, even that wasn't enough to keep the elder Malfoy going; he only lasted three months.

It was a day much like this one when he found his father's body stretched out on bed, face peaceful with a small smile; taking too much Draught of Living Death did cause death. According to his lover, it was a very peaceful way to go.

At first, that had struck him as ironic in regards to his father. But not so ironic considering how much the man had changed.

He stood there staring at the tombstones, still not saying anything. He was the last of his family and he felt like cursing it sometimes.

A sudden 'pop' sound came from behind him but he didn't turn around to see who it was.

"Draco." The voice was low and quiet, knowing the reason why he was here.

He glanced over as his dark haired man came and stood beside him. "Severus." He didn't say anything for a long moment. "It's been five years now."

"You always come here on the same day, every year."

"Almost no one else knows they're buried here," he snorted. "At least they're getting peace and quiet."

Severus gave a dry chuckle. "As are we."

Draco couldn't help but smile vaguely at that. "We used to infuriate them. And vice versa."

"Who would have thought… Potter and your father…" Severus murmured quietly.

Draco nodded his head. "So much is expected of me, to redeem the Malfoy name." He didn't say anything for a bit. "I don't think I can do it. I'm not ready."

"Says?" Severus asked archly.

"He left behind a formidable reputation," Draco stated simply, looking at the stone on the left.

"You don't necessarily have to live up to it."

"The comparison will always be there."

"Then you'll have to learn to live with that." Severus said simply as he moved in closer to Draco. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders before pressing a kiss to the top of Draco's blond head. "Let's go home."

Draco cast one look at the gravestones before nodding his head.

"Goodbye Potter, goodbye Father," he murmured. "I'll see you next year."

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End file.
